An Unspoken story
by agentscia
Summary: Why did Rachel get dump Andy at the dance? The students of the high school think. Why didn't she dump him the minute she heard about Melinda? They concluded it was because she loved him, they made out in the hallways she drew his initials in her note book. They were in love, so what was she thinking? Rachel's POV. now revised


**A/N: This is an assignment that my teacher recommended that I post online. The formatting is a little weird because this is transferred from google. I am very open to criticism as long as it's classy. :) Happy reading!**_  
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_ This is going to be the best night of my life_. I tell myself as I walk into the dance, hand and hand with Andy. The decorations look kinda' bad, but everyone seems to be having fun. Andy looks gorgeous in a black tux. I smile wide and try to ignore the fact that makeup I spent over an hour putting on is smudging a little. I look up at Andy. He smiles. He puts his hand around my waist and I flinch a little. I almost want to run. My heart beats faster. I used to feel so comfortable in his arms, but now...

I try to bring back the feeling I used to get when I was with him. The warmth spreading through my body, the craving for more. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. My friends motion for me to come over. As I walk Andy keeps his hand around my waist.

People are jumping up and down to the beat of the music, but I only stare blankly into the distance; afraid to move. He brings me closer to him. His movements are rough and somewhat cold. I wish he would be more gentle. I don't want to be fragile and weak, but I feel like I am one of his toys.

"Andy can you slow down a little?" He nods and takes my hand as a slow song comes on. I take a deep breath, but just as I start to relax a memory pops into my head.

_Andy Evans__._

_No. It can't be. She's lying. She must have not remembered correctly. She's jealous. She has to be. _

_ She must miss me. I haven't been kind at all to her. I stopped being mad a while ago, but I didn't know how to go back. I just fall deeper into the hole I should never have fell into in the first place. Andy Evans was my escape; he was so nice, so handsome..._

_Then again, he was always asking for things, things I didn't want to give. And I'm almost positive he cheated on me at one point. I try to get mad, and he kisses me on the lips and it's all better. I don't think that's how relationships are supposed to work._

_He was drunk. He wasn't thinking straight. He probably thought she said yes, but she really said no. That must have been it. He'll never do that to me, because I'll say no _realmente claro,_ he'll have to hear it. He'll never do that to me? Would he? _Would he?

_Why does it matter, Melinda hasn't talked to me in months. Melinda hasn't talked to anyone in months. Why wouldn't she at least try to defend herself? _

"_Rachel?"_

"Your just jealous!"

_ Melinda doesn't respond, but I can feel guilt welling up inside of me. What did I just say? I can see rivers of tears brimming in her eyes. She looks like a puppy that has just been denied food, even though it hasn't eaten in weeks. I run. _

_ Why would she be jealous of me if she hates Andy enough to accuse him of rape?_

_Is she jealous of Andy? Does she love me? Did I just break her heart? Probably not, but still. Maybe Andy didn't rape her, but he just touched her in an awkward place and she's worried that he could potentially be a threat to my health-_

I am jolted back to the present as I feel lips on mine. This really isn't so bad; he's being gentle and-

What is he _doing_ to me? Hands should _not_ go there.

"GAHH." I panic. And slap him across the face and push away from him. I turn around and walk quickly away from the door. Soon my walk is a sprint and my blue gown is flying in the wind My mascara is running in streaks down my face but I don't care.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU! MELINDA WAS RIGHT! SHE WAS RIGHT ABOUT YOU! YOU RAPIST!" I yell at him.

"RASHELL!" I hear him call to me. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I stop only to glare at him, my body seething with anger.

_"My name is Rachel!" _We stare at each other for a moment, his eyes are blank, almost vacant. But then there is a small change. His eyebrows curve up a little and he presses his lips together. Then his hand moves slightly, as if to stop me from leaving. But he soon realized it was no use.

Then I knew; he wanted to love me, but he didn't. Lust and hormones got in the way. So he forced himself on me. Love isn't meant to be forced. It is a rule most everyone knows. He knew it. He didn't care. And now he was paying the price.


End file.
